Midshipman Merrill

by Henry Harrison Lewis

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Before the making of the term six years at the Naval Academy. The Author.

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CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE FIRST CRUISE.

At last the active days of preparation had passed, the stormy scenes of hope and despair for the graduates and those striving to stand at the head of their classes had gone, and a calm had fallen upon the Naval School.

A restful lull was upon all.

The graduates, those who had become full-fledged officers, had gone off on their short leave to their homes, to receive the congratulations of kindred and friends, to enjoy a rest before returning to report for stern duty afloat.

They had stepped from light-hearted boyhood with all its joys, across the threshold of manhood with all its cares and ambitions.

The first class and the third were busy preparing for the annual cruise, the remainder of the cadets were to stay behind and while the time away as best they could between duty and the freedom allowed them.

Not as toy sailors were the cadets to go to sea, but in the capacity of ordinary seamen.

Theirs was to be the duty of sailors before the mast, and they were to be drilled and disciplined in all their duties as such.

If they were to command men they must learn the duties of those they were to order aloft, and, learning to obey to perfection, they could the better learn to thoroughly command.

Of course, having stepped up a grade and entered upon a higher plane of study and work, Mark Merrill was to go on the sea cruise.

Then, too, Scott Clemmons, Bemis Perry, and the others of his grade were to go with him, along with the men who had stepped into the places of those who had emerged from the embryo state of the cadet into the reality of the officer.

An old vessel of war of full rig, without steam, and sail only as a propelling power, a ship with a record away back two generations, was the craft that was to become the sea school of the young sailors.

They sailed in joyous spirits, all anxious to rove the deep blue sea.

“With a wet sheet,

And a flowing sea,

And a wind that follows fast.”

Mark Merrill was now like one in his true element.

He had been literally born upon the ocean, and from his earliest remembrance had known how to row and sail a boat, to swim and face the ocean in sunshine and tempest.

All his companions could see that Mark’s learning aboard ship had come from stern experience rather than teaching, and here, too, Scott Clemmons felt his inferiority, and it but added another cup of bitterness to the draught he was forced daily to swallow, for still did the “poor fisher lad” prove his right to be his master.

The voyage had been mapped out for the cadet cruiser, and after a run down the beautiful Chesapeake she rounded the capes, and began to roll upon the blue waters of the Atlantic.

Her first port was to be New York, and thither all letters had been ordered to meet her, while many of the relatives and friends of the young sea-rovers were there assembled to meet them and wish them a bon voyage upon their cruise across the seas.

Hardly had the anchor been let fall in the North River when a boat with one oarsman came off bearing a visitor.

“Merrill, take an observation of that fellow and see if it is not Barney Breslin,” said Bemis Perry, pointing to the occupant of the boat.

“It certainly is; but can he be coming aboard here?” asked Mark in surprise.

“He is; but if there’s a man aboard who speaks to him he ought to be given the cut direct.”

Mark said nothing, and soon after the boat was hailed by the officer of the deck.

“I have letters for Cadet Scott Clemmons, and it is important for him to receive them at once,” was the answer to the hail.

“Ay, ay, come alongside,” was the response of the officer of the deck, as the boat ran up to the gangway.

The next moment Barney Breslin stepped on board, and was in the presence of those who had been his companions at the Naval School, face to face with those who had known him as a thief.

His face was flushed, but it seemed rather from the effects of drink than from shame, for his whole appearance indicated that he led a dissipated life.

His dress was of the shabby genteel, and those who knew something of his antecedents felt convinced that his father had not taken him back into the bosom of the family, or else, as the son of a rich man, why was he looking so very seedy?

Scott Clemmons was below aiding the commander in some work at the time he was sent for, and he was excused to go on deck and meet his visitor.

Who that visitor was he had not the remotest idea, and it flashed through his mind that it might be his paternal ancestor.

Bemis Perry was not one to let him off without a shot, so said:

“Clemmons, your old friend Barney Breslin has called upon you, and from his looks I guess he wants a loan.”

The face of Scott Clemmons flushed scarlet, and the blood, as quickly retreating, left it as white as a corpse.

There stood Breslin, calmly gazing about the vessel, with no show of emotion at the awkward predicament he had placed himself in.

He had spoken to two cadets near him, calling them by name, and addressing them in the free and easy manner of an old friendship.

One of them was Bemis Perry, and he looked him squarely in the face as he said:

“By what right, sir, do you dare to address a gentleman?”

With this he walked away and met Clemmons as he came on deck.

Decatur Knowles, the other cadet to whom Breslin had spoken, simply cut him dead in silence, and walked away.

Just then, as Breslin, not in the least abashed, for he gave a low, defiant laugh, turned and glanced over the ship, Scott Clemmons came on deck and started toward him, but all saw with no joy at beholding him.

Breslin said as he saw him:

“Ah, Clemmons, old boy, how are you?”

He held out his hand, but without taking it, Clemmons responded in a low voice, quivering with anger, but which several overheard:

“Why have you dared come here and ask for me?”

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CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE DEMAND.

In answer to the hail of the officer of the deck Barney Breslin had asserted that he had important letters for Scott Clemmons, and so had come on board.

His speaking to Bemis Perry and his rebuff, his cut by Decatur Knowles, and the fact that a score of middies took it into their heads to pass near him and make no acknowledgment of his existence, did not appear to distress him in the least.

“He has the gall of a book agent,” muttered a cadet, in reference to him.

“The cheek of a Chinese idol,” another remarked.

“I pity him that he has fallen so low,” Mark Merrill commented, for it did distress him to see one who had once had the same opportunity they all had of making a name for himself throw it away as he had done.

“Your heart is softer than your fist, Merrill,” Dillingham returned with a smile.

“Hard as you can hit, Merrill, I do not believe you could bruise that fellow’s cheek,” said Nazro.

Though not wishing to appear to watch his meeting with Clemmons, all eyes turned surreptitiously upon the two, and several who were nearest heard the very decidedly uttered words of the cadet midshipman as to why the disgraced youth had dared visit him aboard ship.

But Breslin did not seem in the least disconcerted, nor did he make an effort to hand over the “important letters,” which he had said he brought with him.

He simply dropped his outstretched hand, which Clemmons failed to take, and while his eyes flashed with anger, replied:

“Ah! you, too, do not care to recognize me, Clemmons; but I guess that you will have to do so, for I came to see you and am not to be snubbed.”

“I was told I had a visitor, but had I known that it was you, Breslin, I would not have seen you.”

“Indeed! but suppose I had insisted?”

“Come, say why you have come here, where not a man will recognize you.”

“True; but what do I care for the recognition of my foes so long as my dear friend Clemmons recognizes me.”

“Will you tell me why you are here, for I am busy in the captain’s cabin?”

“If you cannot find time to see me here, appoint an hour ashore, for it is important.”

“It will be impossible for me to see you, Breslin.”

“See here, Clemmons, I wish to see you upon a matter of importance, I tell you.”

“I cannot tell when I will come ashore.”

“Then I will appoint to-night at eight o’clock, at the Astor House.”

“I cannot be there.”

“Very well, I shall take a trip to Maine to-morrow, if you do not come.”

“What do I care where you go?”

“I believe you live in Maine.”

“I am a sailor, sir, my home being aboard ship.”

“Ah! grandiloquently said, my sea cub, my baby tar, who is not yet out of Uncle Sam’s nursery for middies. You do not live in Maine now?”

“No, sir.”

“Your father does.”

“Well?”

“I shall go there to see him.”

Scott Clemmons started, and asked quickly:

“And why?”

“Because I can get no satisfaction from you.”

“What do you wish from my father?”

“What I desire is from his son. I am poor, very poor, and in distress, as I wrote you, and which letter, with several others, you did not favor with a response. But I know you got the last, for I sent it to your town in Maine to be registered, and I got the return card with your name on it as having received it. You thought it was a money package from home, and found it was a letter from your old chum whom you have treated so badly. I told you that my parents had refused to receive me at first, but relented, and I was given a chance; but I lost heavily in gambling one night, so got money to pay the debt by using my father’s name, which is the same as my own, you know, only I forgot to mention on the check that I was my paternal’s junior, you know, and this little discrepancy got me fired out of the home circle. Luck is against me now, I’m down at the heels, and must have money, so I came to my rich friend and bygone chum, Scott Clemmons. I’ll be at the Astor House at eight o’clock, and if you are not there I’ll be there again at the same hour in the morning. Then if I miss you I’ll start for Maine, and have a talk with Clemmons, senior—ta-ta, Scotty—tra la-la, dear boy,” and Barney Breslin made a mock salute and turned toward the gangway.

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CHAPTER XXXVIII.
KEEPING AN APPOINTMENT.

Scott Clemmons did not even walk to the gangway with his visitor.

He saw him depart, and then walked aft to where a group of cadets stood.

He knew he would have to face the music, so he decided to meet the onslaught at once.

“I say, Clemmons, who was your seedy friend?” asked one.

“What a loud suit he wears.”

“Yes, he is as striped as a zebra.”

“But the stripes run up and down.”

“True, and it makes a heap of difference to a man which way he wears his stripes.”

“If I recognized the gentleman aright his home should be an institution where the stripes should run round him,” said Perry.

“You are right, Perry; for, as you all know, doubtless, the fellow was my old chum, Barney Breslin,” remarked Clemmons.

“Why did he not give you the letters he had for you?”

“What letters?”

“He answered the hail of the officer of the deck with the remark that he had most important letters for you.”

“Indeed! he said nothing to me about them. In truth, that was a mere excuse to get aboard, for he came to borrow money.”

“Ah! he had cheek to come here, and to get any money was worse.”

“You don’t owe him any money, do you, Clemmons?” innocently said one of the cadets.

“Owe him? I only wish I had what he owes me; but he came and asked me for a loan, and I guess he has gone to the bad utterly, for his father has cast him off, he told me.”

“I didn’t see you lend him any.”

“No, and I told him never to cross my path again,” and with this Clemmons returned to his work in the captain’s cabin.

Later a number of midshipmen were given leave ashore, and Scott Clemmons was among them. So, too, were Mark Merrill and Bemis Perry.

The latter two went off for a sight-seeing expedition alone, and a group of cadets also started on a “voyage of discovery” together.

But Scott Clemmons separated from all the others, saying that he had friends to visit, and punctually at eight o’clock he entered the Astor House, the place of his appointment with Barney Breslin.

New York is a large city, but yet people who are friends will run upon each other there in a most unaccountable manner. Two cadets were seated in the gentlemen’s parlor and saw Clemmons when he came along the hall.

A moment after they saw him joined by Barney Breslin, and the two, after some parley, entered the dining room together.

“Well, that looks friendly, Merrill.”

“It certainly does, Perry,” was the answer.

The appointment had been as faithfully kept by Barney Breslin as by Scott Clemmons.

“Well, I have come,” said the latter.

“You are wise,” was the reply.

“What is it, now that I am here?”

“I am hungry, and cannot talk upon an empty stomach. Come, let us have some dinner, and over it we can come to some understanding.”

Clemmons frowned, but replied:

“Do I understand that this is an invitation for me to dine with you?”

“On the contrary, I am to dine with you, for I have not a dollar to my name.”

“Well, as this is to be our last meeting, Breslin, I will honor you.”

They entered the dining room together, and a good dinner with wine was ordered.

“Now, what do you wish to say, Breslin?” asked Scott Clemmons, an hour after the dinner had been dispatched, Breslin eating with a degree of relish that showed he was, indeed, hungry, while Clemmons ate sparingly, seeming nervous and ill at ease.

“I wish to go West and grow up with the country, or go to South America and get a berth there, and I need just one thousand dollars to go with,” said Breslin, rendered bolder by the wine he had drank.

“Won’t your father give it to you?”

“Not a dollar.”

“Then I cannot see how you’ll get there.”

“I can.”

“How?”

“You will give it to me,” was the almost threatening response.

“You were never more mistaken in your life.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“Then there is no need of further talk, for I can work my way to B——, and hold an interview with your father, who I believe will think it a small sum to stand between his son and——”

“He will not give you a cent.”

“Then I shall work my way back to Baltimore, tramp it, or beat the railroad, to Annapolis and see the commandant of the Naval Academy, and when I have had my interview with him somebody will find that they have made a mistake—that is all,” and Breslin arose to go.

“Hold, Breslin, and be reasonable. Now I know you can make charges which you could not sustain; but I wish to avoid a suspicion, and I’ll give you all the money I have, but I cannot raise a thousand dollars.”

“How much have you?”

“Well, both of my parents have been liberal, as I was going upon a foreign cruise, and I have some six hundred dollars.”

“I’ll take it, so hand it over.”

“You are to give me a written pledge never to cross my path again.”

“Of course.”

Pen, ink and paper were sent for, the written pledge was given, the money handed over, and paying the shot for the dinner, the two left the hotel to come face to face upon Mark Merrill and Bemis Perry, who were just about to enter and have dinner together, having taken another stroll after seeing Clemmons and his companion enter the dining room, as they did not wish to be seen by them.

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CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE TELL TALE PAPER.

With six hundred dollars in his pocket, and made so easily, and a bottle of wine beneath his vest, Barney Breslin was feeling in a mood to be reckless.

He stopped short upon seeing Mark Merrill, stepping directly in front of him, and in a very determined way.

As for Scott Clemmons his face flushed with shame at being seen with Breslin, after what he had said aboard ship, and he would have passed on.

So also would Merrill and Perry, but Breslin was not thus inclined.

He had been in so many scrapes since the one that disgraced him from the Naval Academy that he had forgotten his affair with Mark, more than to recall that he had some cause of hatred against him.

“I say, Merrill, do you intend to cut me, or do you fail to recognize me?” he asked, in an insolent manner.

“I recognize you, yes, Breslin, and I desire to cut you utterly,” was the cool response.

“Then take that.”

A vicious blow was aimed, but [it was cleverly turned, while the fist of Mark Merrill caught Breslin squarely between the eyes, and sent him to the floor].

“Mark cleverly avoided Breslin’s attack, and with a well-directed blow sent him to the floor.” (See [page 156])

A crowd sprang toward the spot, and when Breslin arose he shouted:

“Arrest that fellow for assault!”

Mark Merrill was not to be seen. He had been quickly drawn aside by Bemis Perry.

A policeman, hearing that “a cadet had knocked the gentleman down,” at once seized Scott Clemmons against his earnest protests.

But from this predicament Breslin released him, by coming to his rescue with the words:

“You are wrong, officer, that is not the man. But I will show you the man.”

“No, I’d not arrest any one on your charge, Breslin, for I know you now, and you doubtless insulted the one who knocked you down,” and, turning to Clemmons, he continued:

“You, sir, doubtless do not know this man, so I warn you against him as a barroom loafer and dead beat generally, who fleeces all strangers he can pick up.”

With this the officer walked off, while Scott Clemmons felt as though he would like to sink into the floor to hide himself, especially as he caught sight of a cadet uniform vanishing from the crowd.

So he skulked away, as under the words of the officer Breslin had quickly vanished.

In the meantime Mark and Perry had gone into the dining room, and by a strange coincidence took a seat at the same table where Clemmons and Breslin had had dinner together.

“I beg pardon, sir, but are you from the cruising ship now in port?” asked the waiter.

“We are, and we wish the best dinner you can give two fresh young salts,” said Perry.

“I’ll give you a good dinner, sir; but the two gentlemen who were here awhile since, one of them wearing a uniform like yours, left this paper. I just picked it up as you came in.”

Perry took the paper and said, after glancing at it:

“I will deliver it to the gentleman whose name is here, for he is on our ship. Now, my man, we are hungry, so do your best,” and a liberal fee was slipped into the hand of the waiter.

“Oh, thank you, sir; but what wines will you drink?”

“We will not take wine, my man.”

The waiter disappeared with a look of surprise upon his face that any one in uniform ate dinner and drank no wine.

“See here, Merrill, I am going to do perhaps a mean thing, but I am curious to know a few things, and I shall question that waiter.”

“What do you wish to know, Perry?”

“What he can tell me about Clemmons and Breslin, for he took an inkstand, paper and pen off this table as we came up, and here is the paper which the waiter picked up—see!”

He held the piece of paper up, and Mark said:

“If it is Clemmons’, give it to him.”

“It does belong to Clemmons.”

“Then neither of us have a right to read it.”

“Pardon me, but I read it at a glance, and as it is but a few lines I will read it to you, as I am sure it concerns you.”

“Concerns me?”

Without reply Bemis Perry read aloud:

“In consideration of the sum of six hundred dollars, received from Scott Clemmons, I hereby pledge myself to never cross his path again, and to make no further demand upon him for money.”

“Well, what do you think of that, Merrill?”

“It would seem that Breslin holds some claim upon Clemmons; but it is none of our affair.”

“I think it is.”

“How do you mean?”

“I believe that the wrong man was dismissed from the academy, that Breslin was simply the tool of Scott Clemmons,” was the startling reply of the young South Carolinian.

Mark fairly started at this, and yet made no response, while Perry continued:

“Now I shall return this paper to Clemmons, and I shall question this waiter to please myself, and then I shall keep my eye upon that young man from Maine, see if I do not, and if he means mischief toward you I will play the same game.”

Mark still remained silent.

Whatever he might think of Scott Clemmons’ conduct toward him he did not wish others to suspect him of treachery, and he was really sorry that the paper had been found.

But he knew that Bemis Perry was circumspect, and would not act without discretion.

When the waiter returned Perry gave him another fee, praised the dinner, and questioned him closely about the two others who had dined at the table before them.

Mark listened in silence to all that was said, and as they walked away Bemis Perry remarked:

“I am right, Merrill. Breslin was simply the tool of Scott Clemmons.”

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CHAPTER XL.
THREE REPORTS.

Captain De Long, the commander of the cruising ship Constellation, was seated in his cabin smoking his cigar before retiring, when Cadet Midshipman Mark Merrill requested an interview, which was at once granted by the genial commander.

“Well, Mr. Merrill, did you enjoy your run ashore?”

“Yes, sir, with the exception of an unfortunate meeting with Barney Breslin, which I desire to report to you.”

“Ah! have you had trouble with him?”

“Yes, sir, I regret to say, too, that it was in a public place. Another cadet and myself went to the Astor House for dinner, and met Breslin and a friend coming out. The former stepped in front of me, and asked if I recognized him and meant to cut his acquaintance. I responded that I certainly did, when he aimed a blow at me, which I parried, and at the same time knocked him down. My cadet friend drew me out of the quickly gathering crowd, and we had our dinner, sir; but I deemed it best to report the affair to you.”

“You did right, Mr. Merrill, but who was your comrade?”

“Must I make known his name, sir?”

“He was not involved in the affair?”

“No, sir.”

“Then tell me his name.”

“It was Mr. Perry.”

“That will do, Mr. Merrill,” and Mark saluted and retired from the cabin.

The captain still continued his cigar, until a second interruption came in a request from another cadet to see him.

It was Scott Clemmons, his face flushed from the wine he had been drinking.

“Well, Mr. Clemmons, you have just come off from shore leave, I believe?”

“Yes, sir, and I desire to report to you, sir, an occurrence ashore which may not reach your ears otherwise, but which, for the good of the ship’s name, I deem it my duty to make known.”

“I am ready to hear you, Mr. Clemmons,” said the captain blandly.

“I went to dine at the Astor House, sir, and met there Barney Breslin, who begged me for a loan, for he has gone utterly to the bad, I fear. As I was talking to him two cadet midshipmen came in and one of them jostled up against Breslin, who had been drinking, and a disgraceful knock-down followed, in which I was seized by a policeman as the one who made the assault. Of course Breslin cleared me of the charge, and I make this report, sir, in case, should it reach your ear, that you may understand my position in the affair.”

“Who were these cadets, Mr. Clemmons?”

“Do you command me to answer, sir?”

“I do.”

“Cadet Midshipmen Perry and Merrill, sir.”

“Which one of the two struck the blow?”

“Cadet Midshipman Mark Merrill, sir.”

“That will do, Mr. Clemmons.”

The next morning Bemis Perry was ordered to report in the captain’s cabin.

He did so, and Captain De Long said:

“You were ashore yesterday, Mr. Perry?”

“Until six bells, yes, sir.”

“Who was your companion?”

“Mr. Merrill, sir.”

“You dined ashore?”

“Yes, sir, with Mr. Merrill at the Astor House.”

“Did you see any cadets there?”

“Mr. Clemmons, sir.”

“Who was he with?”

“Some friend, sir; not a cadet, however.”

“Did you know him?”

“Yes, sir,” said Perry hesitatingly, for he, like Mark Merrill, did not care to say aught against Clemmons.

“It was the youth who was dismissed from the academy, was it not?”

“Yes, sir; Breslin.”

“What did Merrill pick a quarrel with him for?”

“Merrill pick a quarrel with Breslin, sir?” asked Perry, in amazement.

“Yes.”

“It was the opposite way, sir, for Merrill sought to avoid him; but Breslin stepped directly in his path, and demanded to know if he knew him and meant to cut his acquaintance. Mr. Merrill responded in the affirmative, and Breslin struck at him, but missed, and went down with a suddenness and force that made his teeth rattle. I drew Mr. Merrill quickly away, and that ended it, sir.”

Captain De Long was silent for fully a minute.

He seemed to be arguing in his own mind the pros and cons of the case.

At last he said:

“That is all I wished to know, Mr. Perry.”

The young sailor bowed, and was disappearing up the companionway when Captain De Long called out:

“Send Mr. Clemmons to me, Mr. Perry.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” and with another salute Bemis Perry departed from the cabin.

He at once went in search of Scott Clemmons, and found him pacing to and fro amidships, looking a little the worse for his dissipation ashore the day before.

“Mr. Clemmons, Captain De Long wishes to see you.”

Scott Clemmons started.

“The captain wishes to see me?”

“So he informed me, sir, a minute ago.”

“I say, Perry, do I look as though I had been going it rather deep?”

“You look a trifle bilged, Clemmons.”

“You do not know what he wants with me?”

“No.”

“Has he gotten hold of that row of Merrill’s ashore, I wonder?”

“What row of Merrill’s ashore?”

“When he ran afoul of that beat Breslin.”

“Ah, your friend Breslin, whom he knocked down, as he should have done; but then Breslin was well tanked up after his dinner with you, and lost his reckoning so far as to run across Merrill’s course, and foundered under the blow; but when you have seen Captain De Long, Mr. Clemmons, I desire a word with you,” and Bemis Perry went on his way, while Scott Clemmons sought the cabin of Captain De Long.

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CHAPTER XLI.
A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE.

It was with considerable nervousness that Scott Clemmons went into the cabin of his captain.

It may have been from the effects of his too liberal “treats” of himself the night before, and, perhaps, from a knowledge of the fact that he had yawed wide of his course in telling his story about the affair ashore in which Mark Merrill had been mixed up.

He, however, without a chance to “splice the main-brace” to steady his nerves, braced up as best he could, and reported himself to his commander.

“Mr. Clemmons, may I ask you if you actually saw the occurrence ashore last evening in which Cadet Midshipman Merrill and Breslin had a set-to?”

“Yes, sir, I was, as I said, talking to Breslin at the time, for he was importuning me to give him some money.”

“Then I beg to say, Mr. Clemmons, that for sixty days you are allowed no leaves ashore, in ports we may visit, as your condition at the time of the affair was such that you could not see straight, or viewed it with purposely biased eyes.”

“But Captain De Long, may I ask, sir, if this censure of me is from having heard the report of others?”

“It is, sir; I have the facts from witnesses of the affair. I have no more to say, Mr. Clemmons.”

Scott Clemmons felt crushed at the rebuke, but mustered up courage to say:

“I beg, Captain De Long, that you will remember that Merrill is not friendly toward me, sir, and his statement——”

“Silence, sir! Mr. Merrill reported his act at once to me, and did not even mention your name as having been the friend of Breslin at the time, while you, on the contrary, never friendly toward Mr. Merrill, saw his actions only in a prejudiced way. I have no more to say, Mr. Clemmons.”

Scott Clemmons dared say no more, so departed from the cabin with the knowledge that he had made a mistake in reporting an affair in which he had no concern.

Then, too, he recalled a disagreeable meeting before him, as Bemis Perry had said that he desired to see him.

That young sailor was awaiting his coming, aware, seemingly, that the captain would not detain him long.

“You desired to see me, Perry?” he said, his face flushed and angry.

“Yes, as I told you,” was the quiet response.

“May I ask if you reported to Captain De Long that I was present yesterday in that disgraceful scene at the Astor House?”

“See here, Clemmons,” and the words of the cadet were spoken very quickly: “I am not a tattler, nor am I an informer. Captain De Long sent for me, and asked for my version of the affair.”

“Who first told him?”

“Merrill, like the man he is, reported his action ashore, but never referred to you, and Captain De Long asked who was Breslin’s companion, and I told him that you were, for, as a fellow cadet, you certainly would be willing to prove, as a witness, that Breslin was the aggressor, and was justly punished. Since I came aboard ship I learn that others saw the affair.”

“Ah!” and Clemmons started, and quickly asked:

“Do you know who they are?”

“I do not, for I overheard the affair being talked about, and as neither Merrill nor myself referred to it, and you doubtless did not, some of our fellows must have seen it, though unseen by us. If the affair is called up we will doubtless know who they are.”

Scott Clemmons looked uneasy, for he felt that his version would differ from what all others had, or might tell of the occurrence.

But he hoped that as he was already under punishment he would hear no more of it, so he said coldly:

“You wished to see me, I believe?”

“Yes, I wished to return to you a paper which you left on the dining table at the Astor House yesterday—the waiter gave it to me.”

He handed over the telltale paper as he spoke, and after a glance at it the face of Scott Clemmons crimsoned to a painful extent, and then so suddenly grew white that he seemed as though about to faint.

But he rallied quickly, and with a reckless laugh said:

“Oh, yes, I had not missed it. It is the pledged word of that scamp Breslin never to come near me again, as I suppose you know?”

“Yes, I read it, I frankly confess, for it was handed to me open; but you pay high for the loss of Breslin’s society, Clemmons, and one would almost think he blackmailed you. That was all I wished to see you about,” and Perry walked away, leaving Scott Clemmons in a very unenviable humor.

After a few days passed in the harbor of the metropolis the good ship set sail and headed across the seas for a run to English, French, Spanish, Italian, and Egyptian ports, that the young sailors might have a glance at other lands and also enjoy to its full extent

“A life on the ocean wave,

A home on the rolling deep.”

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CHAPTER XLII.
“MAN OVERBOARD!”

The cruiser is in midocean, bowling merrily along over a dark sea, growing darker and rougher under the approach of a storm and increasing wind.

As the breeze freshens a strong swell causes the ship to roll heavily, and the barometer steadily going down, causes the officer of the deck to keep his weather eye to windward alow and aloft.

“Knowing ones,” old salts who have sailed the seas over for a generation or more, also cock an eye to windward now and then, but of course, feel only confidence in their officers and the man who happens just at that time to hold the ship’s destiny in his keeping.

The ship has been kept well crowded with sail, and the wind being fair the run across promises to be a phenomenal one, a promise that pleases all hands.

The middies have had their chance to work the ship in fair weather and foul, but just now the falling barometer promises a night of it that will blow great guns, for the cloud-bank is steadily rising and the wind comes in stronger and stronger squalls.

The ship is sticking her nose deep into huge white billows, but surging ahead the while in splendid manner.

Suddenly a cadet comes aft and reports to the captain:

“The wind is freshening, sir.”

A few seconds after comes the ringing cry of the first lieutenant:

“All hands ahoy to reef topsails.”

In an instant all is seemingly wild excitement on board the good ship, and yet perfect order reigns, for every man knows his duty.

The “executive” takes command, great coats are donned, cap peaks pulled hard down over their eyes, and the middies, acting as sailors, rush for their posts of duty.

Then comes in trumpet tones the orders, issued in the commanding tones the sailors love so well to hear, and which fill their hearts with confidence in their commander:

“Reef topsails! Man the topsail clew lines and buntlines—weather topsail braces! Stand by the lee braces, bowlines and halyards!”

The young reefers obey with alacrity and seeming recklessness, the orders being taken up and repeated, the boatswain’s whistle piping merrily the while.

Soon comes another order in hoarse, manly tones from the executive, and it is given to a mass of youthful humanity huddled together at the foot of the shrouds, and awaiting their turn with all the eagerness of champions about to spring away upon a race of life or death.

Loud came the orders:

“Haul out the reef tackles! Haul up the buntlines! Aloft, topmen! Lay out!”

Away they go up the shrouds like a stampede of monkeys, and out upon the slender yards and “lay out.”

With strong hands they gather in the flapping, heavy folds of canvas and reef close, while just as the order is upon the lips of the officer: “Lay in, top men!” one of the reefers, by a violent lurch of the ship, is torn from his hold and goes downward, striking with a dull thud the yard below in his fall, and thence downward into the sea.

The command of the officer is heard and obeyed:

“Lay down from aloft!”

While a score of voices utter the thrilling cry:

“Man overboard!”

But all are startled by seeing a form run out on the yard and spring into the sea. What does it mean?

The executive officer did not lose his head for an instant, for his command came sharply, and with promptness to lay the ship to and man the lifeboat. At the order:

“Lay down from aloft!” came the young sailors at a run, some of them fairly flying down the shrouds, others sliding down the backstays, and getting to the deck as best they can.

The good ship is “laying to,” and the life boat is lowered and pulls back over her wake to pick up the two men who have gone overboard, while the question goes the rounds:

“Who are they?”

At last one answers who knows:

“It was Clemmons who was thrown from aloft, and Merrill who sprang after him.”

The speaker was Bemis Perry, and he was at once ordered before his captain, who asked:

“Do you know the men, Mr. Perry?”

“Yes, sir, the one who fell was Clemmons, and as he struck the yard Merrill called out to me:

“‘He struck hard, so must be hurt. I will go after him.’ And then he ran out on the yard and made the leap, sir.”

For once discipline was cast to the winds, and such a yell as rose from the midshipmen at this news had never been heard on the good ship before.

But every eye now was upon the life boat, as it went leaping over the seas, and again came a ringing cheer as the executive called out:

“The boat is returning, sir.”

But had those on the boat given up the search in the face of that terrible storm, threatening to break every instant?

Had they found one?

Had they found both?

These questions could not be answered until the boat returned.

The clouds grew blacker, the sea ran higher, and the wind whistled more viciously.

Over the black waters, dimly seen, the bounding light carried on board the lifeboat was seen to draw nearer and nearer.

The ship’s lights were burning brightly to guide the daring rescuers back to safety.

“They are pulling for their lives,” said the executive officer, somewhat anxiously, and then came the low response of Captain De Long:

“They have need to.”

Nearer and nearer came the leaping light in the boat, and the storm was keeping pace with it, perhaps outracing it, for so many believed.

Once it struck the ship before the lifeboat reached it, and the rescuers would share the fate of those they had risked their lives to rescue.

---

CHAPTER XLIII.
A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.

The suspense on board of the cruiser was terrible, the more so because perfect discipline kept it under, and it could find no vent in words.

Men spoke in muffled tones, cadets hoped and feared, and all awaited the result—life or death to the bold rescuers.

No one yet knew whether the safety of his crew had caused the gallant cadet officer at the helm of the lifeboat to put back for the ship before the storm struck them, or he had returned because he had accomplished his perilous errand.

The ship plunged and keeled as she lay to, and the eyes of all were alternately turned toward the inky-black tempest roaring down upon them, and the lifeboat struggling so manfully to reach the lee of the vessel and safety.

“Ahoy, my brave fellows! pull for your lives!”

It was the voice of the gallant De Long thus sent over the black, tempestuous waters.

The brave commander could stand the strain of suspense no longer—he must speak.

Then came a faint cheer from the struggling oarsmen, and a roar like mighty winds went up from the ship’s deck in response.

“Pull! Pull for your lives, brave lads!” shouted Captain De Long.

And back over the waters came the answer:

“Ay, ay, sir, we’ll make it!”

But would they?

Hushed were all for a moment more, and then the leaping light shot up under the lee of the cruiser, the men aboard cheered wildly, while those in the boat were drawn on board by ready and willing hands.

The next instant the lifeboat was hung to its davits and firmly lashed, while from it was taken a limp form and carried below to the care of the ship’s surgeon.

The storm was upon them now, and the men sprang to their stations, yet loud and ringing were the cheers in honor of the gallant rescuers, for the lifeboat had picked up those for whom they had risked their lives.

“Mr. Merrill, the captain wishes to see you aft, sir.”

It was an hour after the breaking of the storm, and the good ship was driving along before the gale, and directly on her course.

Stars were seen now in the black cloud-rifts, and all knew that the hardest work was over.

Mark Merrill had not gone below to change his clothes.

“What’s the use in this sea?” he had said, and he reported at his station.

Now he was sent for to come aft, and he promptly reported, saluting, though capless.

“Mr. Merrill, accept my congratulations upon as plucky a deed as I ever beheld,” and Captain De Long grasped the hand of the young midshipman.

“Thank you, sir; but I saw that he was hurt and could not swim,” said Mark modestly.

“You found him readily, it seems?”

“Yes, sir, and he was unconscious, so I had no trouble in keeping him up until the lifeboat took us in.”

“May I ask if you knew who it was when you made your leap to the rescue?”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then a cadet came up and said:

“Pardon, sir, but the surgeon asks to see Mr. Merrill.”

“Go below, Mr. Merrill, and then you had better turn in for the night. To-morrow morning report to me at eight bells.”

Mark departed from the quarter-deck and sought the surgeon’s quarters.

There he found Scott Clemmons, who had returned to consciousness, with a gash upon his head, skillfully dressed, and his left arm bound close to his side, for his collar-bone was broken.

“Ah, Merrill, I wish to say that your plucky act saved Clemmons, for he was stunned by the blow on the head, and his collar-bone is fractured. He wishes to see you.”

Mark’s hand had been warmly grasped by the ship’s surgeon as he spoke, and now he stepped toward Scott Clemmons.

“Say, old fellow, you did a manly thing, they tell me, and I owe you my life. We haven’t been exactly chummy in the past, but, of course, now you’ll believe in my friendship for you?”

Mark Merrill would have given much could he have escaped the thanks of Scott Clemmons.

He could understand how much it cost him of pain and humiliation to say what he did.

But he said:

“Oh, we are good enough friends, Mr. Clemmons, and what I did for you I would have done for any one else, and you know I don’t mind a ducking and a swim even in the sea.”

“I don’t recall any of it except that I lost my hold and felt the dull thud as I struck the yard; but they say you leaped from aloft and kept me afloat until the lifeboat picked us up. Now I’m laid up in ordinary for a few weeks, so come in and see me often.”

“You’ll be all right soon, Clemmons, and now you need sleep, as the doctor will tell you,” and Mark Merrill turned away and went to swing his hammock, get on a dry rig, and turn in, for his struggle with the sea even his iron frame could not help but feel.

The next morning all hands were mustered on deck, and Captain De Long, in a few well-spoken words, complimented Mark Merrill upon his noble act, and praised the crew of the lifeboat for their gallant service.

Mark blushed like a girl under the words of the captain, and to his brother midshipmen made light of his act; but he got full credit for the deed all the same, for all understood that there had been no love lost between Scott Clemmons and himself.

And so on its way held the cruiser until the shores of England hove in view, and the anchor was soon after let fall in the Mersey.

Among the first to land were three midshipmen who seemed to have some special mission ashore.

They were Herbert Nazro, Winslow Dillingham and Bemis Perry, and they made their way directly to a fashionable jewelry establishment, where an order was left for some special work, with directions to forward it by express to Lisbon by a certain time, when the ship would touch there.

After a few days in port the cruiser again set sail, and Scott Clemmons was again on duty, though there was a red scar still visible upon his forehead.

But all noticed that, in spite of owing his life to Mark Merrill, Scott Clemmons seemed rather to shun the one to whom he owed his life than to seek his company.

---

CHAPTER XLIV.
THE PILOT MIDSHIPMAN.

From port to port went the cadet’s cruiser, saluting the flags, forts, and ships of other nations and receiving salutes in turn, while the young sailors were given a run ashore to see something of the countries they were visiting.

At length one night came the cry from aloft:

“Light ho!”

It was Cape Rosa Light, and on the vessel sails in the coming dawn until all the cadets gather on deck to behold the land of Portugal.

Lateen-rigged craft pass out, and other vessels are met, one large bark flying the Stars and Stripes, which brings a cheer of greeting from the young sailors.

The high crags of Cintra, with its castle and surrounding fields, are passed, the old fort of St. Julian, next frowning Fort Bugio, and thence onward into the waters of the Tagus.

The tower of Beleur next looms up, with fortress-clad cliffs, and the cadets soon after are called to their stations as Lisbon, seated upon her many hills, rises in terraces before them, telling them that the haven is reached, for with a plunge the anchor is let fall.

Then up aloft is run a ball of bunting, which, when shaken out, reveals the standard of Portugal, and gun after gun thunders a salute from the cruiser to the old city of Lisbon.

As the health officer has reported all safe on board, a boat soon after goes ashore, and in it are the three cadets who landed first at Liverpool, and visited the jewelry establishment.

They now seek the offices of the Continental Express Company, and there awaiting them is a small package.

The jeweler has kept his promise.

After a few days spent in Lisbon the cruiser sets sail for the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea, and once the shores of Portugal are left astern a muster of all hands on deck is called, and Captain De Long orders:

“Cadet Midshipman Merrill to the front!”

Mark Merrill promptly obeys, and then as the captain takes from a morocco case a beautiful gold badge, he, for the first time, realizes that he is to be the recipient of a token as an appreciation of his services when he leaped from the yardarm to save the life of Scott Clemmons.

In a few well-chosen words the captain made the presentation, in which occurred the following:

“This souvenir, Midshipman Merrill, is a unanimous expression of the appreciation of your daring deed by this ship’s crew, for from quarter-deck to forecastle every one has insisted upon being a subscriber, with the one exception of Mr. Clemmons, from whom the intention was kept a secret as well as from yourself. I pin it upon your breast for you to wear as a badge which you may well feel proud of.”

As the captain spoke he pinned upon the jacket of the young hero a beautiful emblem of his courage, which was a massive anchor of solid gold, to which was suspended a shield with bars of pearls, turquoises and rubies to represent the colors red, white and blue, while below was engraved:

“PRESENTED
BY THE OFFICERS AND MEN
OF
The U. S. Cadet Cruising Ship Constellation
TO
CADET MIDSHIPMAN MARK MERRILL
As an Appreciation of His Splendid Courage
in Leaping Overboard at Night
in a Storm to Save the Life of
a Shipmate.”

In what was certainly a very neat speech, though taken unawares, Mark Merrill thanked Captain De Long and all for their great kindness, and raised his cap as three cheers were given for him.

A number of eyes were turned upon Scott Clemmons during this scene, and it could be easily discovered that he seemed ill at ease, though he stepped forward and told his rescuer how glad he was of the honor bestowed upon him, adding, with some feeling:

“Had I chipped in, Merrill, it would have spoiled all, or had I suggested it, for my debt to you can never be cancelled.”

Had Scott Clemmons overheard the criticism which Bemis Perry made of his speech he would have been overwhelmed with confusion, for though the young South Carolinian said but one word, and used slang, it was to the point, for he simply said:

“Rats!”

There was another criticism offered also, and by Herbert Nazro, who said with a wicked little laugh:

“Go tell that to the marines, Clemmons.”

After this episode Clemmons seemed more constrained than ever in his conduct toward Mark Merrill. He seemed positively uneasy in his presence.

At last, after a visit to several ports in the Mediterranean the prow of the cruiser was turned homeward, for a stop was to be made upon the New England coast.

It was a stormy passage home, keeping the young tars constantly busy reefing, pulling, and setting more sail, and giving them a thorough experience in the life of a sailor.

In the last storm not far off the coast, the cruiser had sprung her mainmast, but fortunately the gale blew itself out, and a calm fell upon the sea. The next morning the shores of New England were in view.

The weather was hazy and sultry, the barometer was steadily falling, and Captain De Long and his lieutenants viewed the weather with anxiety.

There was a huge black mass gathering to seaward, and as the day passed it began to rise slowly, though the deadest of calms still rested upon the sea.

The shore was a little over a league distant, and with a breeze the good ship could readily work off, but in the teeth of a storm, and with the mainmast sprung, there were too many odds against her.

The afternoon passed, all eagerly watching for a cap full of air, to bear the vessel into a haven of safety, the Kennebec River.

But no ripple stirred the glass-like waters, and to landward a wild and forbidding coast only was seen.

The charts were examined closely, but no harbor was noted just there, and all wondered what was to be done, for the sprung mast would never stand to beat out to sea against such a tempest as was rising.

At last Captain De Long turned to Cadet Midshipman Clemmons, and asked:

“Do you not live somewhere in this vicinity, Mr. Clemmons?”

“Some leagues from here, sir.”

“And you know of no haven into which we could tow with our boats!”

“I have heard of several harbors for fishing boats, sir, but I do not know of them,” replied Scott Clemmons, who would not say:

“But Merrill might know.”

He did not care to put another feather in the cap of his rival—his rescuer though he had been.

“Pardon me, Captain De Long, but Mr. Merrill pointed out to me a while ago with his glass his own home, and he may know,” said Herbert Nazro, who had heard the captain questioning Clemmons.

“Ah, yes, he is the very man! Send Mr. Merrill here at once,” said the captain, with considerable eagerness.

Mark Merrill reported promptly.

“Mr. Merrill, your home is near here, I am told?”

“My mother dwells in the large mansion, sir, you see on the cliff yonder, a league and a half away, but it is not our own home, sir.”

“Do you know of any harborage in here which we can tow into with our boats, for yonder seems like a good anchorage ground?”

“That, sir, is a death trap with a storm from seaward, for the coasters call it Hopeless Haven. Yonder, where you see the cliff, is a harbor, and a safe one, though small, and the entrance is dangerous.”

“Do you know these waters well?”

“Perfectly, sir,” was the response, and there was no boasting in the reply.

“There is depth for this ship in the harbor you refer to?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you can pilot her in with the boats ahead, if we can get there before the storm breaks?”

“It was there, sir, I took General Peyton’s yacht, the Midshipman, sir, when the Secretary of the Navy and Commodore Lucien were on board.”

“Ah, indeed! I have been told of that bold piloting by the commodore himself; and it got you your appointment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I will order the boats out ahead, and——”

“Pardon me, Captain De Long, but as the gale is coming from seaward, I can run in, sir, if you will order topmasts housed and set only lower sails, to save the sprung mainmast,” said Mark modestly.

“Mr. Merrill, you are a born sailor, sir, and I give the ship over to you as pilot,” said Captain De Long, with frank acknowledgment of the youth’s skill and nerve.

---

CHAPTER XLV.
UNEXPECTED VISITORS.

Standing upon Beacon Cliff were three persons, watching with interest and deep anxiety the cadets’ cruiser as she lay off the coast a league or more.

They were Mrs. Merrill, the mother of the gallant middy, old Peggy, and a beautiful young girl whom the reader will recall as Virgene Rich, the fair witness who had testified so well in behalf of the young sailor in his affray with Scott Clemmons, Ben Birney, and others of like ilk at B——.

Mrs. Merrill read at a glance the danger of the vessel, when she saw that she was becalmed and a storm rising from seaward; but her anxiety would have been far greater had she known that the craft was crippled and might not be able to beat off the coast.

What her feelings would have been had she known that her only son was on board the vessel can well be imagined.

But though she saw that it was a vessel of war she did not connect Mark with her, as she supposed that his cruiser was in foreign seas, not having received his last letter from Lisbon, in which he had told her what the remainder of the voyage would be.

Mrs. Merrill looked several years younger than when Mark had gone to the Naval School.

Her really beautiful face had almost lost its expression of sadness and her form was still youthful and graceful.

Virgene Rich, true to her promise, had often ridden down to see Mrs. Merrill, and so attached had she become to her that Landlord Rich had asked her to become his daughter’s governess, and thus we find the young girl also an inmate of “Spook Hall.”

Mrs. Merrill had kept up the flower garden, made the wing in which she dwelt more comfortable, and, with a horse and phaeton, which she had purchased, did not seem near so far away from civilization as before.

Then, too, Skipper Jasper Crane, with the Venture, was making a very snug living for her, and her bank account steadily increased, while Mark was winning his way in the world, as she well knew.

So the three stood watching the cruiser, the rising storm, and the coming of night.

“It will be a terrible night, I fear,” Mrs. Merrill said, with increased anxiety for the cruiser.

At length the deep rumbling of thunder was heard, the lightning flashes rent the black clouds, and the roar of the still distant tempest reached their ears.

Then there came a ripple upon the waters, and instantly sail was set upon the cruiser, which, under its influence, began to move ahead.

“She heads down the coast,” said Mrs. Merrill.

But the wind came in gusts, followed by calms, and each squall was more severe.

Sail was shortened upon the cruiser at last, as the storm was coming near, lights were set, and night, black, threatening and dangerous, came upon land and sea. But the three watchers upon the cliff had secured wraps, and kept their places to watch the lights that marked the position of the cruiser.

Louder burst the thunder crashes, more vivid flashed the lightning, and wilder roared the winds as they bore down upon the devoted ship.

“See, see! she heads in toward our harbor!”

“She is lost!” cried Mrs. Merrill, wringing her hands in distress.

“Perhaps she has a pilot on board,” suggested Virgene.

“No! no! for the coasters shun this harbor, and only Captain Crane and one of his boys know the channel in.”

“Mark knows,” said old Peggy, in a very decided way.

“Yes, but he is not here—see! the lights advance steadily, and—Virgene, there is a pilot on board yonder craft, for she has rounded Whaleback Rock and passed between The Sentinels, and that was not chance, surely.”

“And the storm is upon her now,” cried Virgene, as the lurid glare upon the sea showed now the advance of the tempest directly down upon the ship.

“Yes, but Whaleback Rock and The Sentinels will break its force, while she has now gotten under the lee of Castle Rock, and heads into the harbor.”

As Mrs. Merrill spoke the storm was seen to catch the ship and hide the lights from view in an instant; but the rocky islands she had spoken of broke its force, and, though the cruiser was driven onward with a rush, she was held firmly on her course, and a few minutes after glided in under the lee of Beacon Cliff.

“She is safe!” cried Mrs. Merrill, as she saw the lights reappear in the harbor, and the three were almost blown by the wind to the mansion.

The storm howled savagely about the old mansion, but all was comfort within, and old Peggy set about getting supper, when all were startled by a loud knock.

“It must be some one from the ship,” said Mrs. Merrill, and she and Virgene went to the door.

“Mother!” and a form clad in a greatcoat steps forward, while other cloaked forms are behind him.

“My son!” cried Mrs. Merrill, as she was enfolded in her son’s arms, but quickly released as the others stepped in out of the storm, and Mark said:

“Mother, I wish to present my commander, Captain De Long, Lieutenant Briggs, and my chum, Cadet Midshipman Bemis Perry.”

Other introductions followed to Virgene, and Captain De Long said:

“We found ourselves on your coast, Mrs. Merrill, in distress, for we had a crippled mast, and your brave son became our pilot, and ran us into a safe harborage. Then I gave him leave to come ashore on condition that he brought us with him.”

It was a pleasant evening that was passed there in old “Spook Hall,” and old Peggy sat down to them one of her most tempting suppers.

It was midnight before Captain De Long started upon his return to his ship, but he gave Mark permission to remain till after breakfast the following morning, when, if the weather was not severe, the cruiser would sail on her course once more, as, with his crippled mast, the commander wished to reach Annapolis as soon as possible, knowing that he would have to run from port to port in good weather.

It was noon the next day when the cruiser sailed, Mark again acting as pilot out to sea, and fair weather and a stiff breeze held her on her way, until once again she dropped anchor off the Naval School, and the young sailors went ashore to “bone it” hard for another long year, and to struggle for honors.

---

CHAPTER XLVI.
A FORCED RESIGNATION.

The second year began with Mark Merrill in the lead for honors.

He had not only won a badge for a gallant act at sea, but he had received “honorable mention” for his services as pilot under circumstances where only skill and nerve alone could have saved the cruiser from a very dangerous position.

Then, too, he held the honors of his class for the first year, and that was in his favor.

He had enemies, of course—what really good fellow has not?—yet he was generally popular, and the officers all liked him.

Scott Clemmons was still distantly polite, and his clique of toadies imbibed his manner toward Mark Merrill.

But of their treatment Mark was severely indifferent.

Scott Clemmons had given out that he meant to win the honors of his second year.

He had thrown this challenge, or rather defiance, in the face of Merrill, and at once he set about his task to win.

But those who made the situation a study were convinced that Scott Clemmons would never stand number one, though he had a strong chance for position number two.

There were more who said it was very bad form for him to attempt to take first honors away from a man to whom he owed his life, but Mark Merrill seemed not to regard it in that light.

One afternoon Mark received a letter which seemed to give him a great deal of worry.

At last he sought Bemis Perry, and said:

“See here, Perry, you have got a very level head, and I wish to ask your advice.”

“Fire away, old man, for I am at your service from truck to keelson.”

“I have a letter here from Miss Virgene Rich, whom you met at my mother’s.”

“Ah! I see; but you are over-young to marry yet, Mark. Flirt all you wish to, have a sweetheart in every port, which is a sailor’s prerogative, but don’t let any girl get her grappling irons on you too securely to shake off.”

“My dear Perry, you generally speak with the wisdom of Solomon, but just now you are on the wrong tack, so go about and know your course before you set full sail.”

“My anchor’s down, Merrill, and hatches closed,” and Perry dropped into his chair and placed his finger upon his lips.

“It concerns Clemmons, and places me in an awkward position.”

“Ah! more of his deviltry, eh?”

“I’ll read you Miss Virgene’s letter.” And taking it from his pocket, Mark read aloud as follows:

“My Dear Mark: A letter from me will doubtless surprise you, but I write for Silly Sam, who is not gifted with a superior style of penmanship.

“Let me first tell you that all at Spook Hall jogs on in the same easy way, and I am still under your sweet mother’s kind charge, though I am spending Sunday, to-day, at home with father, so I can send no message from your mother, and, in fact, my letter to you is a secret known only to the writer, Silly Sam, and the recipient.

“Now to Sam’s letter. He begs me to say to you that he is in the employ of Merchant Clemmons, and that the other day, when asleep in the little room adjoining the office, Mr. Clemmons came in, accompanied by a young man whom he had met at his door.

“Sam did not make his presence known, and through the door, he being back in the dark, he saw that the young man presented a very seedy, dissipated look, but had a very defiant air.

“Then, as near as I could get it from Sam, the young man demanded money from the merchant, and was refused.

“Then he told him that he would go to the Naval Academy, where he had been a cadet, and make a clean breast of it to the commandant that his son, Scott Clemmons, had led him into a plot against you.

“Scott had paid him well for his services, said services being to persecute you in any way in his power, to cause you demerit marks, and that Scott Clemmons had arranged a plan by which you should be found with a gold fifty-dollar coin, which he, Clemmons, had pretended was stolen from him.

“The plot did not turn out a success, as you had thwarted him in some way, and he had been dismissed from the academy.

“To keep him quiet and accept his dismissal, Scott Clemmons had paid him well, and he had all the proofs of what he said, and knew that it was the intention of Scott Clemmons to get you dismissed from the academy by some foul means, notwithstanding that you had saved his life, for he treated you with the bitterest venom.

“Then, Sam says, the visitor, who gave his name as Barney Breslin, boldly demanded two thousand dollars from Merchant Clemmons, or he would go to the commandant and give proof of Scott’s villainy and have him dismissed in disgrace.

“Sam says that Mr. Clemmons was deeply moved, when convinced that the young man told the truth, and told him that he would give him the money, and more, on condition that he should give into his hands all proofs and then leave the country.

“This the young man promised to do, and when Mr. Clemmons sent to the bank for the money, he handed over to him a bundle of papers, letters, which Scott Clemmons had written, and other documents, which the merchant seemed glad to get.

“Such is Sam’s story, and you now know what a foe you have in Scott Clemmons, and can govern yourself accordingly, Mark.”

Such was the letter, and Bemis Perry listened to every word of it with the deepest attention.

“Now, Perry, you have the facts.”

“Yes, and you asked my advice?”

“I did, and I wish it, for, though I do not fear Clemmons’ open hostility, I do not care to be on guard constantly against his blow in the dark, nor do I wish a scandal, for of that there has been enough with Breslin.”

“So I think; but my idea is to save a scandal, and to keep the secret between ourselves, while I force Clemmons to resign, for it will come better from me than from you. If you will trust me with that letter I will act.”

Mark handed it over without a word, and, rising, Bemis Perry went to his desk and took out a paper he had locked therein.

“I will soon return,” he said, and he left the room.

He went straight to the quarters of Scott Clemmons, whom he found alone.

Scott Clemmons looked up with some surprise as he entered, for they were upon barely speaking terms; but Perry gave him no time to consider, but said:

“I have come to see you, Clemmons, upon a matter of vital importance to you, and we must be alone.”

“Well, sir, we are not likely to be disturbed.”

“Mr. Clemmons, I have come to ask you to do yourself a favor.”

“In what way?”

“To resign.”

“What do you mean, sir?” angrily asked Clemmons.

“Be patient, extremely patient, and you shall know. I am here to do you a favor, if you will so consider it; to do my duty by the service, the academy, and my brother cadets, if you do not obey my wishes.”

“Your words are inexplicable to me, sir!”

“Well, I’ll be more explicit than you can wish, sir. You had as a friend here one Barney Breslin, a cadet who became your tool, for you paid him well to persecute Mark Merrill in every manner possible—hold! I have here Breslin’s confession, and more, I hold other papers to criminate you in that gold coin affair, which you professed to have had stolen from you for the purpose of disgracing Merrill. Now the paper I handed to you, which you left upon the table in the Astor House, I allowed three cadets to read, and I took a copy of it. That shows that Breslin blackmailed you out of six hundred dollars. He did not leave the country, but on the contrary has forced money from your father, who has feared to have you disgraced by his coming to the commandant.”

“My father?” gasped Clemmons.

“Yes, your father paid him over two thousand dollars to prevent his coming here, and so, as I hold all proofs of your villainy——”

“Sir!”

“I repeat it, of your criminal scoundrelism toward Merrill, I tell you, that if you do not this day send in your resignation to the commandant I shall place the whole matter before him, and the result will be your utter disgrace. See, I am blackmailing you now, threatening, forcing you to resign, for if you do not, I shall do as I say; if you do, I shall keep your secret, upon my honor. What will you do?”

“Resign,” and the word was hardly audible.

“When?”

“To-day.”

“You are wise.”

“You will keep my secret?”

“Yes; write your resignation now.”

It was done, and Bemis Perry said:

“Now, good-by, Clemmons; but permit me to say that I pity one of your splendid attainments who was not man enough to fight a rival openly.”

And Bemis Perry left the room, while soon after Scott Clemmons went over to the quarters of the commandant and handed in his resignation.

It was a surprise to the commandant, a wonder to all, the resignation of Scott Clemmons, but all questioning as to the cause went unanswered, for Bemis Perry kept his word and the secret.

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CHAPTER XLVII.
A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION.

Mark Merrill continued on in the even tenor of his way through his second year, and once more stood at the head of his class.

As for honors won the third year was but a repetition of the other two, and he entered upon the last year of his Naval School life with the goal of his ambition in sight, the chance of becoming the “first honor man.”

When the last day rolled around, the one that was to make or mar his hopes of winning or losing, he was pale but calm.

He had held his popularity with all, and they all wished him success.

He had held his place so well in his studies, his deportment, and through every duty and drill, that only a slip could send him to the rear.

There, among the visitors, was the Honorable Secretary of the Navy, and there, too, was the gallant old sailor who had been his friend, and who had been honored by promotion, and now appeared as Rear-Admiral Lucien.

“I dare not fail in their presence,” Mark Merrill had muttered to himself, and his face flushed as he suddenly beheld two others there with their eyes upon him.

Those two were his mother and Virgene Rich, the latter now grown into a beautiful young lady of twenty.

Dare he fail now? No, and he did not, for his name stood at the head of the list as number one.

And more, he was praised in no measured terms, and cheered in a manner that showed that his fellows were glad in their inmost hearts.

And that night when he appeared at the Naval Ball he was the cynosure of all eyes, and justly so, for a splendid, handsome fellow was this daring young sailor who had made such a brave fight for fame.

When Mrs. Merrill and Virgene returned homeward they had as an escort the young naval officer, who was on his “graduation leave” before being ordered away on a three years’ cruise.

Arriving at Spook Hall, and mingling among those who had known him in the past, the verdict of all was that he was not in the least spoiled by the honors he had won.

Asking about Scott Clemmons, Mark learned that he had gone away from home upon an expedition to Cuba, to fight with the Cuban patriots struggling to free the “ever faithful isle” from the tyrannical yoke of Spain.

After a happy visit at home, where Herbert Nazro came and visited him the last month of his leave, and fell desperately in love with Virgene Rich, Mark reported for duty, and was ordered on board the United States steamer Frolic, which was to sail for the West Indies.

Three months after, one dark and rainy night, the Frolic lay at anchor in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba.

In the steerage a number of young officers were gathered around a table, before which was spread a map of the harbor and the town.

One was talking in low, earnest tone, and others were listening with rapt attention.

The speaker was saying: “Now, gentlemen, these prisoners have been placed in this prison—here it is upon this map, and to-morrow they will be taken to the fortress, where they will remain until Sunday, when, with the others now condemned and captured on the Commandatario, they will be shot by the Spaniards, for Spain is merciless to her foes. If they are removed to the fortress, then all hope for them is gone, so we must act to-night. I have bribed a Spaniard to aid us, and he is to secure the uniform of an aide to General Buriel, and meet us at this point—here on this map. He will have uniforms awaiting us, and we will march to the outpost for the prisoners, while he states that he has been sent to conduct them to the fortress, fearing an attempt at rescue by the Cubans. The commandant of the outpost prison is a new man, and his men have just come from Havana, so that Buriel’s aides are not known to them, and herein is our strength. Now I saw these prisoners to-day, and every one of the seven are Americans, whom, as our cruiser will not protect, we must aid to escape. Nay, more, one of these prisoners is the gallant Bascomb, who resigned after leaving the academy, and accepted a position as commander of a Cuban blockade runner. Another is Scott Clemmons, also once a cadet, who was Bascomb’s lieutenant, and the others are also brave American boys who must not be shot to satiate Governor Buriel’s thirst for blood. Are you with me?”

“To a man,” said Bemis Perry, and the others, eight in number, held forth their hands and grasped that of Mark Merrill, who continued:

“It is not law; I know, it is against naval discipline; but it is justice, it is humanity, for if we do not save those poor lads they are dead men within thirty-six hours. Now we have leave to go on a special invitation to our fellows of the Powhattan, so we’ll instead pull ashore and meet my Spaniard.”

“We are ready,” said Perry, and soon after, muffled in their great coats, the young officers entered a cutter and were rowed away through the darkness and rain.

They landed at a certain point on the shore where there was a hut in which shone a light.

Here a Spaniard met them, and Spanish uniforms were put on over their own, muskets were taken, and they marched off.

The Spaniard was in the uniform of a captain, and wore a cloak.

He led the way, and after a march of half a mile they came to the outpost carcel, or prison.

The pretended Spanish officer gave the countersign, and going into the carcel told what his orders were.

It seemed a long time for the waiting officers in their disguise, but at last the clanking of chains was heard and out marched the prisoners, seven in number, and heavily ironed.

The pretended captain placed them in single file between his men, and off they marched in the darkness and storm. They did not return to the cabin, but continued along the shore, until they came to a boat, and dimly seen offshore was a small sailing craft.

“Now, señor, unlock these irons, and let the men go aboard as quickly as possible, for their craft must be well off the coast before dawn, and with this gale they can be, for it blows straight out of the harbor. Then see us back to the cabin, and your work is done,” said Mark Merrill.

“I should know that voice among a thousand—by heaven! you are Mark Merrill.”

“Yes, Bascomb, but breathe it not, for we are Spanish soldiers this night of our Lord.”

“Ever the same noble, gallant fellow, Merrill, and God knows I’ll never forget you for this, will we——”

“Come, you must be off, or you will undo all that has been done. There is your craft and two men on board, chartered for the cruise—please go.” And thus urged the rescued men hastened into the boat, which at once shoved off, while brave Bascomb cried:

“We’ll meet again, Merrill; God bless you and your brave crew, whoever they be.”

“Now we must get out of this,” said Mark, and the Spaniard led the way rapidly back to the hut.

When the uniforms were discarded Mark handed the Spaniard the amount promised him, and getting into their boat, it was headed back to the Frolic.

“Merrill,” said Bemis Perry, in a low tone.

“Yes?”

“You engineered the bravest act of your life to-night, one which, dared it be known, would win you a name that would never die. I am proud to have been with you; but did you see that Clemmons skulked away when Bascomb recognized you, that he uttered no word?”

“Yes, he’s the same old Clemmons, Perry,” was the reply.

The ship was reached, and when the next morning came the news of the daring rescue of the prisoners became known, but no one placed the daring deed where it belonged, and that the call of the captured men was a close one was proven by the deliberate and cruel execution, as the murder was called, of scores of gallant men who had volunteered to aid the patriot cause of Cuba, and were doomed to death by the butcher, Buriel.

Soon after the Frolic steamed away from the shores of the ever faithful isle, and no one ever dreamed the real truth of that midnight rescue of Americans led by Mark Merrill.

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CHAPTER XLVIII.
CONCLUSION.

After her West Indian cruise the Frolic dropped anchor in New York harbor, and, to his surprise, Mark Merrill found a leave of absence granted him from active duty.

A letter from his mother partly explained the situation. She had begged the leniency of a leave for him.

Upon his arrival in B—— his mother met him, and upon the drive home he learned the story, which I will now let the reader know.

Mark’s father had been a wild, but not wicked, lad, and his mother had married a second time.

The stepfather, Vance Vanloo, had treated the youth so cruelly, wishing to get rid of him so that his own son could get possession of his wife’s valuable estates, that the lad had run away to sea.

He had the proper spirit in him, and had worked his way up from the forecastle to the command of a fine vessel, when he had fallen in love with a young girl who was crossing the ocean with her invalid father.

The father had died, and was buried at sea, and the daughter, falling in love also with the handsome young captain, had married him.

And she it was who afterward became Mark Merrill’s mother.

But soon after little Mark reached his twelfth year the father was lost at sea, and his wife was left destitute, for, as sorrows never come singly, what they had saved up in bank was wiped out by the failure of the bank.

So it was that Mark, born upon the sea and reared upon his father’s vessel, turned his attention to the water to earn a living for himself and mother.

They had sought the coast of Maine, near B——, and afterward became dwellers, by the kindness of the agent, in the grand old mansion known as Spook Hall. But, better still, an inquiring attorney had sought out the heirs of the estate, and of other large property coming to them, and found them in Mrs. Merrill and her son.

So the Vanloo mansion, old Spook Hall, was in reality the home of Mrs. Merrill, who suddenly found herself a very rich woman.

Such was the mystery hanging over the Merrills, and hovering about Beacon Castle, and such was the story told to the young naval officer during his drive to the place so long dreaded as Spook Hall, but which had been fitted up and refurnished by Mrs. Merrill to welcome home its master.

A pleasant month did Mark spend at home, and while there he gave away in marriage, for her father had died the year before, pretty Virgene Rich to Herbert Nazro, of the United States Navy, and a handsome couple they were, too.

And Mark Merrill?

But if I say more I fear I will be pointing too directly at the officer who has been my hero, and whom, perhaps, too many already have recognized; so I will let fall the curtain upon the gallant young sailor who won the victory in his fight for fame.

THE END.

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THE CREAM OF JUVENILE FICTION

THE BOYS’ OWN LIBRARY

A Selection of the Best Books for Boys by the Most Popular Authors

The titles in this splendid juvenile series have been selected with care, and as a result all the stories can be relied upon for their excellence. They are bright and sparkling; not over-burdened with lengthy descriptions, but brimful of adventure from the first page to the last—in fact they are just the kind of yarns that appeal strongly to the healthy boy who is fond of thrilling exploits and deeds of heroism. Among the authors whose names are included in the Boys’ Own Library are Horatio Alger, Jr., Edward S. Ellis, James Otis, Capt. Ralph Bonehill, Burt L. Standish, Gilbert Patten and Frank H. Converse.

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DAVID McKAY,
610 SO. WASHINGTON SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PA.

HORATIO ALGER, Jr.

One of the best known and most popular writers. Good, clean, healthy stories for the American Boy.

Adventures of a Telegraph Boy
Dean Dunham
Erie Train Boy, The
Five Hundred Dollar Check
From Canal Boy to President
From Farm Boy to Senator
Mark Stanton
Ned Newton
New York Boy
Tom Brace
Tom Tracy
Walter Griffith
Young Acrobat

C. B. ASHLEY.

One of the best stories ever written on hunting, trapping and adventure in the West, after the Custer Massacre.

Gilbert, the Boy Trapper

ANNIE ASHMORE.

A splendid story, recording the adventures of a boy with smugglers.

Smuggler’s Cave, The

CAPT. RALPH BONEHILL.

Capt. Bonehill is in the very front rank as an author of boys’ stories. He writes also under the name of Stratemeyer and Winfield. These are two of his best works.

Neka, the Boy Conjurer
Tour of the Zero Club

WALTER F. BRUNS.

An excellent story of adventure in the celebrated Sunk Lands of Missouri and Kansas.

In the Sunk Lands

FRANK H. CONVERSE.

This writer has established a splendid reputation as a boys’ author, and although his books usually command $1.25 per volume, we offer the following at a more popular price.

Gold of Flat Top Mountain
Happy-Go-Lucky Jack
Heir to a Million
In Search of An Unknown Race
In Southern Seas
Mystery of a Diamond
That Treasure
Voyage to the Gold Coast

HARRY COLLINGWOOD.

One of England’s most successful writers of stories for boys. His best story is

Pirate Island

GEORGE H. COOMER.

Two books we highly recommend. One is a splendid story of adventure at sea, when American ships were in every port in the world, and the other tells of adventures while the first railway in the Andes Mountains was being built.

Boys in the Forecastle
Old Man of the Mountain

WILLIAM DALTON.

Three stories by one of the very greatest writers for boys. The stories deal with boys’ adventures in India, China and Abyssinia. These books are strongly recommended for boys’ reading, as they contain a large amount of historical information.

Tiger Prince
War Tiger
White Elephant

EDWARD S. ELLIS.

These books are considered the best works this well-known writer ever produced. No better reading for bright young Americans.

Arthur Helmuth
Check No. 2134
From Tent to White House
Perils of the Jungle
On the Trail of Geronimo
White Mustang

GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.

For the past fifty years Mr. Fenn has been writing books for boys and popular fiction. His books are justly popular throughout the English-speaking world. We publish the following select list of his boys’ books, which we consider the best he ever wrote.

Commodore Junk
Dingo Boys
Golden Magnet
Grand Chaco
Weathercock

ENSIGN CLARKE FITCH, U. S. N.

A graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, and thoroughly familiar with all naval matters. Mr. Fitch has devoted himself to literature, and has written a series of books for boys that every young American should read. His stories are full of very interesting information about the navy, training ships, etc.

Bound for Annapolis
Clif, the Naval Cadet
Cruise of the Training Ship
From Port to Port
Strange Cruise, A

WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON.

An author of world-wide popularity. Mr. Graydon is essentially a friend of young people, and we offer herewith ten of his best works, wherein he relates a great diversity of interesting adventures in various parts of the world, combined with accurate historical data.

Butcher of Cawnpore, The
Camp in the Snow, The
Campaigning with Braddock
Cryptogram, The
From Lake to Wilderness
In Barracks and Wigwam
In Fort and Prison
Jungles and Traitors
Rajah’s Fortress, The
White King of Africa, The

LIEUT. FREDERICK GARRISON, U. S. A.

Every American boy takes a keen interest in the affairs of West Point. No more capable writer on this popular subject could be found than Lieut. Garrison, who vividly describes the life, adventures and unique incidents that have occurred in that great institution—in these famous West Point stories.

Off for West Point
Cadet’s Honor, A
On Guard
West Point Treasure, The
West Point Rivals, The

HEADON HILL.

The hunt for gold has always been a popular subject for consideration, and Mr. Hill has added a splendid story on the subject in this romance of the Klondyke.

Spectre Gold

HENRY HARRISON LEWIS.

Mr. Lewis is a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and has written a great many books for boys. Among his best works are the following titles—the subjects include a vast series of adventures in all parts of the world. The historical data is correct, and they should be read by all boys, for the excellent information they contain.

Centreboard Jim
King of the Island
Midshipman Merrill
Ensign Merrill
Sword and Pen
Valley of Mystery, The
Yankee Boys in Japan

LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY.

A series of books embracing many adventures under our famous naval commanders, and with our army during the War of 1812 and the Civil War. Founded on sound history, these books are written for boys, with the idea of combining pleasure with profit; to cultivate a fondness for study—especially of what has been accomplished by our army and navy.

Cadet Kit Carey
Captain Carey
Kit Carey’s Protegé
Lieut. Carey’s Luck
Out With Commodore Decatur
Randy, the Pilot
Tom Truxton’s School Days
Tom Truxton’s Ocean Trip
Treasure of the Golden Crater
Won at West Point

BROOKS McCORMICK.

Four splendid books of adventure on sea and land, by this well-known writer for boys.

Giant Islanders, The
How He Won
Nature’s Young Nobleman
Rival Battalions

WALTER MORRIS.

This charming story contains thirty-two chapters of just the sort of school life that charms the boy readers.

Bob Porter at Lakeview Academy

STANLEY NORRIS.

Mr. Norris is without a rival as a writer of “Circus Stories” for boys. These four books are full of thrilling adventures, but good, wholesome reading for young Americans.

Phil, the Showman
Young Showman’s Rivals, The
Young Showman’s Pluck, The
Young Showman’s Triumph

LIEUT. JAMES K. ORTON.

When a boy has read one of Lieut. Orton’s books, it requires no urging to induce him to read the others. Not a dull page in any of them.

Beach Boy Joe
Last Chance Mine
Secret Chart, The
Tom Havens with the White Squadron

JAMES OTIS.

Mr. Otis is known by nearly every American boy, and needs no introduction here. The following copyrights are among his best:

Chased Through Norway
Inland Waterways
Unprovoked Mutiny
Wheeling for Fortune
Reuben Green’s Adventures at Yale

GILBERT PATTEN.

Mr. Patten has had the distinction of having his books adopted by the U. S. Government for all naval libraries on board our war ships. While aiming to avoid the extravagant and sensational, the stories contain enough thrilling incidents to please the lad who loves action and adventure. In the Rockspur stories the description of their Baseball and Football Games and other contests with rival clubs and teams make very exciting and absorbing reading; and few boys with warm blood in their veins, having once begun the perusal of one of these books, will willingly lay it down till it is finished.

Boy Boomers
Boy Cattle King
Boy from the West
Don Kirke’s Mine
Jud and Joe
Rockspur Nine, The
Rockspur Eleven, The
Rockspur Rivals, The

ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE.

Mr. Rathborne’s stories for boys have the peculiar charm of dealing with localities and conditions with which he is thoroughly familiar. The scenes of these excellent stories are along the Florida coast and on the western prairies.

Canoe and Camp Fire
Paddling Under Palmettos
Rival Canoe Boys
Sunset Ranch
Chums of the Prairie
Young Range Riders
Gulf Cruisers
Shifting Winds

ARTHUR SEWELL.

An American story by an American author. It relates how a Yankee boy overcame many obstacles in school and out. Thoroughly interesting from start to finish.

Gay Dashleigh’s Academy Days

CAPT. DAVID SOUTHWICK.

An exceptionally good story of frontier life among the Indians in the far West, during the early settlement period.

Jack Wheeler

The Famous Frank Merriwell Stories.

BURT L. STANDISH.

No modern series of tales for boys and youths has met with anything like the cordial reception and popularity accorded to the Frank Merriwell Stories. There must be a reason for this and there is. Frank Merriwell, as portrayed by the author, is a jolly whole-souled, honest, courageous American lad, who appeals to the hearts of the boys. He has no bad habits, and his manliness inculcates the idea that it is not necessary for a boy to indulge in petty vices to be a hero. Frank Merriwell’s example is a shining light for every ambitious lad to follow. Six volumes now ready:

Frank Merriwell’s School Days
Frank Merriwell’s Chums
Frank Merriwell’s Foes
Frank Merriwell’s Trip West
Frank Merriwell Down South
Frank Merriwell’s Bravery

VICTOR ST. CLAIR.

These books are full of good, clean adventure, thrilling enough to please the full-blooded wide-awake boy, yet containing nothing to which there can be any objection from those who are careful as to the kind of books they put into the hands of the young.

Cast Away in the Jungle
For Home and Honor
From Switch to Lever
Little Snap, the Post Boy
Zig-Zag, the Boy Conjurer
Zip, the Acrobat

MATTHEW WHITE, JR.

Good, healthy, strong books for the American lad. No more interesting books for the young appear on our lists.

Adventures of a Young Athlete
Eric Dane
Guy Hammersley
My Mysterious Fortune
Tour of a Private Car
Young Editor, The

ARTHUR M. WINFIELD.

One of the most popular authors of boys’ books. He writes also under the name of Bonehill and Stratemeyer. Here are three of his best.

Mark Dale’s Stage Venture
Young Bank Clerk, The
Young Bridge Tender, The

GAYLE WINTERTON.

This very interesting story relates the trials and triumphs of a Young American Actor, including the solution of a very puzzling mystery.

Young Actor, The

ERNEST A. YOUNG.

This book is not a treatise on sports, as the title would indicate, but relates a series of thrilling adventures among boy campers in the woods of Maine.

Boats, Bats and Bicycles

DAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia.

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